Scars
by AnthroQueen
Summary: It's more than they both bargained for and the only options are to see it through or abandon all hope.


**I'm going to casually walk in here and pretend I've been more present in the FanFiction world. Hello, how are all of you on this fine day? Sorry I've been so MIA- I work at Disney World and literally worked my whole life from Thanksgiving to New Year's. But I have a life again (I mean, obviously not, if I'm here, right? :P) and I've been dying to write these two idiots, but I haven't had time and I haven't really had any ideas. Until 5x15. Because that episode was a freakin' whirlwind, let me tell you. Well, no, I don't need to, because you know that, having watched it yourself.**

**So this was something I just kind of came up with nearly immediately after the episode was over. I worked on it a bit and well, here it is. I don't know. Now that I'm looking at it, it's kind of a hot mess. But it's based on the frustration and sadness I felt over the end of the last episode, and also a quote from Joseph Dougherty ("I think what [that storyline] really brings into relief is that, I think Toby joined the police with a certain expectation that he'd be able to help the girls in a certain way, and I think it's not working out that way. There's a conflict between Toby the cop and Toby the boyfriend, which I don't think they were expecting would have an effect on them.") and I needed to write after that. There were too many feelings lol. Anyway, hopefully you'll enjoy and I'm hoping to write more often now that the crowds have died down. Love you all!**

* * *

><p><span>Scars<span>

She's bleeding; no, she's not, not really, but that's what it feels like. The scab of arguments past, so fresh, barely developed, tears off and exposes her once more, and the blood flows as warm as the tears upon her face. It's the same as before and yet it isn't; with two people as passionate and as stubborn as they are, it's no surprise they disagree as often as they do. And even though she expects the arguments to be easier to handle, they never are; they're always worse than the previous one and always a hell of a lot more painful. The irony hits her like a ton of bricks; they used to fight because she didn't tell him enough and now they're arguing that she's told him too much. Either way, he's left her again and that sickening feeling grows in the pit of her stomach and dread creeps into the forefront of her brain, wondering if this is the time that he won't come back.

She sniffles and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, but the tears are coming and they aren't going to stop now. She's hardly up for company, so she turns and makes her way down the winding streets of Rosewood towards home. She's already pulling up her contacts on her phone in an attempt to reach out to him, but she can't see through the blur of tears and she doesn't know what she'd say anyway, so the box remains empty and the cursor blinks expectantly, monotonously, sympathetically. By the time she's home, she's stuffed her phone back in her pocket, the tears have ended and the anger begins to build. Every time, it's the same; she honestly is sick of telling him not to leave and watching him do it anyway, so she's sure he must feel the same way. Instead of calling him, instead of texting and begging and pleading for him to come to her so they can talk, she does nothing. She remains silent. She tries his methods on for size… and she hates every minute of it.

She's pacing her living room floor, replaying their argument over and over again and trying to pinpoint what it was about this one that felt infinitely different than the others. She remembers her heartbroken, accusatory words- _You told me once that I could tell you anything_- and the look of utter disappointment and sheer self-loathing in his shining baby blues. For a moment, Spencer allows herself to wander down the road not taken- _I__s this the beginning of the end?_- and then she wants to vomit. Suddenly, she can't stop herself from thinking about more fights to come, and lies and tears and break-ups; she reminds herself the college is coming soon and Paige and Emily had already fallen prey to this threat and so many unwanted thoughts are filling her brain and everything hurts. Immediately, she's thrown shoes back on and is dialing his number before she can blink, moving frantically for the back door.

He's there, on the threshold with his phone pressed to his ear, and her heart gives a tug because they still think the same.

Her hand sinks slowly and the screen on her phone darkens and shuts off. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and says, "Hi."

"Hey," He exhales slowly. "Can I come in? We should talk."

She nods and steps aside, quietly shutting the door behind him. He shuffles a bit before asking, "Are you okay?"

"Relatively," She sighs. "Are you?"

"No," He admits. "I'm confused and conflicted and mad."

"At me," Spencer finishes but he shakes his head.

"At myself," Toby corrects her gently. "This is more than I bargained for. I don't know. I guess I just didn't expect it to be like this. I wasn't thinking."

She nods slowly. "But you're not going to give up."

"I'm not," He agrees. "But I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. I'm sorry I yelled at you and I didn't mean to make you cry. God, Spence, I'm sorry."

"Are you sorry for leaving?" Spencer asks next. "Because you did. You left after I told you, last time, that you couldn't do that to me. You still did."

He glances at the floor. "I was ashamed of myself. And I thought you didn't want to see me anymore."

"That's not good enough," She finds herself saying and it's just like the last time. "If we're fighting, I want to resolve it so that we don't have to do this every time."

"I am sorry," He says quietly. "For leaving, I mean."

"I'm sorry too," She adds. "For the knife and for Caleb and everything. It was stupid. It shouldn't have happened."

There's an awkward silence between the two of them and they rarely ever have this kind of tension. She's too afraid to ask, so Toby speaks instead. "About what you said earlier…"

"That I can't tell you everything anymore?" She clarifies and her heart shatters, just a little.

"Yeah," Toby agrees. "I told you that you could and that'll always be true."

"As long as whatever I have to say doesn't involve police matters," Spencer says and Toby hesitates.

"Well…"

"You don't have to sugarcoat it," Spencer crosses her arms. "I know it's true. It just sucks."

He nods. "I know."

She sniffles and feels tears coming on again. "But we're still okay, right?"

"Of course we are," He says as if anything else would be preposterous. "This is a minor setback, but it's not the end of the world. We can work around this. Nothing's going to keep us apart, Spence."

It's exactly what she needs to hear. She begins to crumble and asks, "Good. Will you please hold me? Please."

He's engulfed her in his arms before she can even finish her request. She lets out a long, shuddering breath and he holds her even tighter in response. "I love you so much. Don't forget that."

"I love you too," She manages to reply. "But everything's going to change now, isn't it?"

"Not everything," He pulls back slightly to look her in the eye. "And not forever. Just until this whole –A/Alison mess is over."

She scoffs. "So forever, then?"

"You've got to have a little bit of faith, Spence," Toby tells her. "It might be a slow process, but we're getting there."

"I'm really proud of you for taking initiative and getting involved," Spencer begins. "But we're about as close to the end as we are to the beginning and look what it's doing to us."

"Spencer, I didn't do this to put distance between us," Toby says. "I did it so we could finally have someone who cares about putting an end to this on the inside. I did it so we could maybe accelerate this process a little instead of the corrupt cops delaying the process over and over. I did it so you could finally have some peace and instead… Well, look at you."

He turns away, frustrated, and Spencer fears for a moment he's going to leave again, but he just sinks onto the couch instead. She follows suit as he shoves his face roughly into his palms. "I always do this. I want to help you, but I end up making things worse."

She says nothing, but she remembers well what happened the last time he wanted to help. She remembers betrayal and bitter cold and too many salty tears to count. She remembers leaves and acorns, a lifeless body and wondering if a piece of her had died as well. She remembers the white walls, so many white walls, and she remembers the pits of darkness chaining her down, its invisible talons a chokehold on her throat. She remembers; she'll never forget. And it terrifies her to this very day that there's someone out there, someone seated beside her right now, who cares about her _so much_ he'd willingly fling them both through the streets of hell in order to secure her safety. Spencer's always been amazed by just how much Toby loves her and she often wonders if she deserves it. After everything she's put him through, he's still standing beside her, still treating her like she's the sun on his darkest days, still looking at her with a love that could knock her out.

She peels one of his hands away from his face and threads her fingers through his. He glances over at her and there's so much confusion, so much _conflict_ in his eyes, it makes her heart ache. "Toby… I didn't stop loving you or wanting to be with you last time. I'm not going to stop this time, either."

He looks at her for a long time, processing her answer, her words truly sinking in and Spencer can see the slight disbelief in his eyes, can almost see him wondering why she hasn't left him already, but just as she's about to reassure him a second time, he covers his feelings with a serene exterior and gently pulls his hand from hers. Instead, he wraps his arm around her shoulders and tucks her into an embrace. Her ear comes to rest just above his heart and she snakes her own arm across his torso. Toby presses a few kisses into her hair, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on her arm, and Spencer can feel the stress and the strain melting from her body. Just his mere proximity is enough to soothe her, and she could stay like this, with him, forever and not have a single complaint.

After a beat, however, a thought comes to her. "Toby?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember a while back when I asked you what it was like to run away?"

He nods slowly, not sure where this is going. "Yeah. And I told you if you ever got the urge to call me. Why?"

"I've just been thinking about it a lot lately," She tells him. "If we lived somewhere else, anywhere else, with no –A… And no murder charges, or near-death experiences, or lies… And we could still tell each other everything."

Toby tightens his hold on her upon those last few words. "You're almost done with school."

"Yeah, and then what?" Spencer wonders. "College? I don't have many of those calling my name and I _can't_ stay here, Toby. I just can't. I just… I want to start over."

"Then we'll start over," He tells her and when she meets his eyes, he insists. "Seriously. We will. Whenever you finish school, wherever that might be, we'll pack the truck with everything we own and we'll just drive. Hit the open road. Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere," Spencer tells him. "I want to be as far away from Rosewood as possible."

"So we'll go to New York," Toby suggests. "Or Miami. Portland. L.A. Maybe we'll even go international. I've been looking to try out the French my stellar tutor taught me- we could go to Paris. Or, I still owe you a trip to London."

She smiles. "And what'll we do?"

"Anything," Toby shrugs. "Everything you try, you're good at it, so you'll be a superstar doctor or athlete or chef. I can be a cop anywhere, and you won't have to worry about me because nowhere is as dangerous as Rosewood, right?"

"But what about your rock star carpentry skills?" Spencer wonders. "Don't let them go by the wayside."

"No, never," Toby agrees. "I'll build us a house and we'll fill it with positive memories."

"And newborns with six-packs?" She asks cheekily and he chuckles.

"Of course."

A moment of complacent silence passes and they're grounded in reality once more. Spencer asks, "Toby? Tell me that this is something you really want."

"Of course it is," Toby replies and his response is so sure, Spencer can already hear wedding bells and the fresh cry of an infant. "If I got to spend the rest of my life with you, I would be the luckiest and the happiest man on the planet."

She kisses him, languid and slow, and wonders why she ever worried in the first place. "That's what I want, too."

* * *

><p>Hanna and Caleb come to visit the first weekend of October and the moment the four of them are reunited, it's like they never left Rosewood. They fall into easy conversation as Toby and Spencer take them around the city, touring the icon destinations and stopping for lunch at their favorite little café uptown. It seems Hanna and Caleb are the only other couple to have made it out of Rosewood's threatening grasp; Aria and Ezra had finally and permanently parted ways the second the former headed to grad school in New Hampshire, and Emily had never reconciled with Paige following their awkward run-in in California a year or so prior. It makes group gatherings a bit awkward; while Spencer and Toby fawn over the upcoming birth of their first child and Hanna and Caleb chat easily about their impending wedding plans, it's hard for Aria and Emily to feel like they fit in. Thus, Spencer's almost glad they'd been unable to make this weekend's festivities, if only to spare them some of the awkwardness.<p>

"… and she tried to get me to go with taupe. Taupe!" Hanna scoffs over dinner that evening. "As if I want people to eat on tablecloths that look like they haven't been washed in sixty years!"

"Oh, how dare they," Spencer teases. "Look, I don't know why you need a wedding planner anyway. You've been planning your wedding since you were six."

"Don't get me started, Spencer," Caleb grumbles. "It's just an extra thousand that we don't have for someone to tell us tulips are better than roses."

"Excuse me for wanting the perfect wedding," Hanna frowns. "And we would _never_ get tulips. Or calla lilies. Those are _so_ cliché."

Toby chuckles and shakes his head. "I don't even remember what kind of flowers we had. Clearly, not an important detail."

"We had orchids and hydrangeas," Spencer fills in. "I remember because your stepmother was allergic and she spent the entire ceremony sneezing through our vows."

"Oh. Yeah, that rings a bell," Toby says. "She also complained the chicken was dry and the DJ didn't play 'her' music. Why did we invite her again?"

"She's your family," Spencer points out. "And despite everything, that night was perfect."

"That's exactly what I'm looking forward to," Hanna agrees. "When the planning is done and I'm standing up there, in my dress, and I can just enjoy everything."

Spencer nods and stands, preparing to clear the table, and Toby pops up as well, reaching for the plates. "Let me do it."

"I'm fine," She swats at his hands. "I'm pregnant; I'm not injured. I can manage to wash a few plates."

"Have you guys decided on a name yet?" Caleb wonders. "You know, Caleb works well for a boy or a girl…"

Spencer laughs. "And as much as we do love you, we're not naming our baby after you."

"Yeah," Toby agrees. "Besides, my daughter's going to have a name that's as regal as she is."

"Oh my god!" Hanna exclaims. "You found out it's a girl?"

"No," Spencer shakes her head, up to her elbows in soapy water. "But Toby's been assuming it's a girl since the day I told him I was pregnant."

"Okay," Toby defends. "Do you know for a fact that it's not a girl?"

"No," She says. "But there's a fifty percent chance it's a boy."

"And there's a fifty percent chance it's a girl," Toby puts in and she rolls her eyes. "Look, if it's a boy, I will love him just as much as I'm going to love our daughter. You know that."

"I do," Spencer agrees. "But this baby's a boy. I can feel it."

"This actually might be interesting," Caleb says, turning to Hanna. "Fifty bucks it's a girl?"

"You're on," Hanna agrees. "If you think I'm betting against Spencer, you've got another thing coming."

There's laughter as Spencer sets the last of the dishes on the drying rack, dries her hands, and the four retreat to the living room. Moments go by and suddenly, a shrill beeping noise echoes from down the hall. Spencer turns to her husband and states, "It's your pager."

"Forgot I was on-call tonight," Toby groans, standing and heading in the direction of their bedroom. "Be right back."

He returns a moment later with a perplexed expression Spencer immediately calls out. "What's wrong?"

"There's some kind of situation a few blocks away," Toby fills her in, not too many details, but more than she would've gotten in Rosewood. "I don't know; there was commotion over the radio when I called in. It wasn't my unit that was called to the scene, but…"

He trails off and Spencer knows he's dying to go help. "Do you think they need you?"

"I don't know. They haven't called for backup yet," He shrugs and sits beside her on the couch again. "It's probably fine. It doesn't matter."

Spencer can feel Hanna and Caleb's eyes on them, sure they're expecting some kind of argument, but those days are long gone. "You should go."

"No, no, it's okay," Toby tells her. "We have company."

"We can entertain ourselves," Hanna says. "If you need to go, I mean."

"Yeah," Caleb agrees. "We'll play more 'guess the gender' games."

Toby chuckles and Spencer squeezes his knee. "Go. If they call for backup, you'll already be there, one step ahead of the game."

"You sure?" He asks quietly, his eyes searching hers for any sense of hesitation.

She nods. "I'm sure. Go help. And be safe, please."

"I will," He agrees, capturing her lips in a kiss. "Promise."

The rest of the night passes quickly and pleasantly, with talk of weddings, babies, and how far their life truly has come since they'd left Rosewood all those years ago. Spencer learns more and more about her best friend's wedding (an eight-tiered cake, fireworks at the reception and gold, embossed place cards) and Hanna asks a thousand and one questions about pregnancy (yes, there really is a lot of vomiting and no, it's not just in the morning). When they decide it's time to turn in for bed, Spencer shows them to the baby's-room-turned-guestroom and laments that there isn't something bigger for them; the air mattress just barely fits between the crib and changing table and Spencer assures them that they're looking for a larger, more permanent home to move to once the baby makes his or her arrival.

She's brushing her teeth when she gets the call. Toothpaste burns her tongue and the phone goes limp in her hand and she can't make out what the chief of the department is saying, but all she knows is Toby's been hurt; Toby's been _shot_. And he's being rushed to the hospital as they speak but no one knows what condition he's in and Spencer feels like she's back in Rosewood all over again. Toby's life hangs in the balance and there's nothing Spencer can do, but she can't blame –A this time; -A's long gone. The only thing they can chalk this up to is bad luck and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And it hurts, it hurts _so_ much, when Spencer realizes that most of Toby's life was spent being in the wrong place at the wrong time- with Jenna and with Alison and, unfortunately, even with Spencer herself. He's always so selfless, always wants to help, and yet he always ends up in the middle of the crossfire.

"Hey Spence, do you have any moisturizer?" Hanna calls, soft footsteps coming closer. "All this wedding stress is making me break out."

But one look at her best friend's face makes all thoughts of facial cleansers completely vanish. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"Toby…" is all Spencer can manage to say. If she says the words out loud, she may combust.

Hanna spots the phone in her friend's hands and her eyes widen. "Oh God, what happened? What happened?"

"He's been shot," Spencer barely chokes out. "Oh my god. Oh my _god!_"

She dissolves into a mess of tears and Hanna embraces. "Okay. Okay, let's get to the hospital. Is he okay? Do they know?"

The brunette shakes her head miserably and Hanna says, "Okay, they don't know, so let's not freak out _too_ much, okay? Get your coat; I'll get Caleb."

The three arrive at the hospital minutes later and are pointed in the direction of the emergency room before they can even ask. Spencer has yet to compose herself and when she spots a cluster of Toby's colleagues in the corner, she makes a beeline for them. "Where is he? What's going on? Is he okay?"

A grave-looking doctor in the center of the group approaches her gently. "Would you be Officer Dawson's wife?"

"No," Spencer disagrees. "Officer Cavanaugh's."

"Oh," The doctor brightens just a bit. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Doctor Randall. Your husband's sustained some pretty major injuries to the upper left chest and stomach and is currently in surgery. He was in critical condition when he arrived and lost a lot of blood, but we won't know anything more until he's out of surgery."

Spencer nods numbly. Another woman bursts through the ER doors and when Dr. Randall pulls her aside, Spencer has to glance away. The heartbreaking sobs are deafening and she tries desperately not to think of how she might be next. She feels a hand on her shoulder and comes face to face with Officer Griffin- for the life of her, she can't think of his first name, not now- one of Toby's closest friends. His face is ashen and he offers Spencer a hug. She greatly accepts and he says, "It happened so fast, Spencer. It just got out of hand."

She pulls away, wiping at her eyes. "What happened?"

"We got word of a hostage situation on 45th and 11th," He begins to explain. "It was routine. We showed up and we didn't know they were armed. We were, of course, but they… They just started shooting. Dawson got it right through the heart; he wasn't wearing a vest. None of us were. Toby and I were already in the house and we couldn't get out to go get one. We tried, but we were cornered by one of those sick fucks and they aimed a shot at me. Toby took it instead. I took that bastard out, but it was already too late. I can't believe he stepped in front of that gun. I owe him my life. But you should be proud of him, Spencer. He's a hero."

Maybe he's saying this to ease her trouble mind, but it doesn't work. She thanks him, turns away, and sits beside Hanna in the waiting room, her tears a never ending river of sorrow and fear. Caleb offers her a cup of coffee, decaf of course, and Spencer softly shakes her head. Hanna's eyes widen. "You don't want coffee? It might make you feel better, you know, to have something familiar."

Spencer sniffles but again declines. "I'm okay. Thanks. I don't think I could eat or drink right now anyway."

"Look, I know this is going to be nearly impossible," Hanna says. "But you do need to try and relax just a tiny bit."

Spencer shoots her a bewildered glance and Hanna insists, "For the baby, Spencer. All this stress could trigger an early labor, you know."

"I know, believe me," Spencer tells her. "You think I'm not worried about that too? Everything about this night is terrible and I just want it to be over."

And then it is. She spots Dr. Randall out of the corner of her eye and nearly jumps up to speak with him. "Is it over? The surgery? Is he okay?"

"He's in stable condition," The doctor confirms. "We were able to remove all the pieces-"

"The pieces?" Spencer stops him. "Of what?"

"The second bullet," Dr. Randall informs her. "The first one grazed his left shoulder, the third one went through his stomach and exited just below his kidney, and the second one came in right below the breastbone and promptly shattered. But we've recovered all the splinters and are confident he's going to make a full recovery."

She nods, still numb, and can just barely make out, "When can I see him?"

"Now, if you'd like," Dr. Randall offers. "I'm not sure if he's awake; he was in and out of consciousness when I last left him. But he's in recovery on the third floor, room 349."

That's all she needs to hear. Her heart's racing as she navigates blindly through the halls and when she's found the one and pushes the door open, it nearly leaps from her chest. Toby's bandaged pretty heavily and hooked up to more machines than she can count, but that doesn't intimidate her in the slightest. He's half awake and she can still see the anesthesia in his eyes, but he smiles at her anyway. His voice is groggy when he croaks, "It's okay. You should see the other guy."

"You are not funny," Spencer warns him, stepping closer and sitting on the bed beside him. "I can't believe you did that. What the hell were you thinking? Stepping in front of a bullet? Are you insane? Are you actually out of your mind?"

"I'm sorry," He says weakly. "I wasn't thinking. Griffin wasn't wearing his Kevlar-"

"Neither were you, Toby!" Spencer exclaims. "Jesus, you gave me a heart attack! Do you know what ran through my mind when they told me you'd been shot?"

He frowns. "I can only imagine."

"And then I got here and that doctor pulled me aside…" Spencer tries to swallow past the lump in her throat, but she can feel fresh tears burning her eyes and knows there's no use stopping them. "I thought… I thought…"

"I know. I know," Toby doesn't make her finish and instead lifts an arm and uses it to curl her against him. "I'm so sorry, Spencer. I've put you through more turmoil than the average human can sustain."

"At least you admit it," Spencer murmurs. "That's the first step in putting an end to it, isn't it?"

"Well, I'm certainly going to try," He says. "It wasn't my plan to get shot today. And it's never my plan to hurt you."

"I was so scared," Spencer says quietly. "I was so worried about you that I started seriously stressing out and… Then I started worrying about the baby."

"She's not coming anytime soon. She's smart like her mother," Toby tells her. "She knows she has three months left."

"What if she's a he?"

"Then she's a he. But she's not."

She smiles slowly and the irony is not lost on her; how could she possibly be happy at a time like this? But she is. She hadn't lost the love of her life tonight, even though it had appeared as though she would. And here he is, a little bruised, a little broken, but mostly okay, making her feel better like he always does. She sits up a bit, needing to look him in the eye, and says, "If you ever do this to me again, I will kill you myself."

"Deal," Toby agrees. "I really am sorry, Spencer."

"Sorry enough that you'll go back to carpentry?" Spencer asks hopefully. "I don't remember you getting shot while building houses."

"If that's what you want, that's what I'll do."

"No, don't do _that_ to me, either," Spencer shakes her head. "Whatever you do has to be your decision and you know I'll support you either way. But this is _so_ dangerous Toby. For both of us."

"No, believe it or not, I've been thinking about making the change for a while, now," He admits. "And tonight is the only time I ever want to get shot. Trust me, I'm not planning on making that a weekly occurrence."

Spencer bites her lip. "And you're not going to resign because I asked you to?"

"Well, yeah, that's part of it," Toby informs her. "But I'm also doing it because I want to. Tonight was too much of a close call. I want to meet my kid… and I promised you forever."

"Yeah, you did," Spencer smiles. "So that better be what I'm getting."

* * *

><p>"Daddy, you have a hole in your belly."<p>

"I do?" Toby exclaims, pretending not to know to what she is referring. "Where? I don't see it."

"It's right there," Stella points out, her teeny fingers cold and sticky on his skin. "Right by your numbers. How you get that?"

"I don't know," Toby shrugs. "What do you think?"

"I think," The five-year-old ponders the question. "Oh! You used to be a sailor and you dropped your telescope on your belly one day and lost some skin. Then you got those numbers on your side, right? 901 is how many sea voyages you went on and you were so sick of it by the last one, you added 'Free at Last'."

"Yeah, that must be it," Toby chuckles. "Guess I wasn't a very good sailor."

"Stella, that's not how he got the hole," Her brother corrects her, entering the conversation. "Didn't you see? There's one on his back, too."

"What?" Stella shrieks and scurries around the kitchen counter to check this out for herself. She hops up and down when she finds her, her flip-flops thwacking against the tile. "Oh my gosh! How'd you do that?"

"Easy," Grayson tells her. "Dad used to be a pirate."

Stella's not buying it. "No he didn't."

"Yeah he did!" Grayson demands. "He was a pirate and he was digging for buried treasure but this other pirate wanted the treasure too, so they had a sword fight. And the other pirate was mad because Dad was winning, so he stuck his sword right through Dad's stomach. It came out the other side. And then they went to jail for sword fighting for 901 days and when he got out, he got the 'Free at Last' part. Duh."

Stella glances at her father for confirmation and Toby can hardly contain his laughter. Where his children got their imagination from is beyond him. "That might be how it happened, Stells."

"No way," Stella shakes her head. "It's a circle. Swords aren't circles."

"You don't know that," Grayson argues. "You don't have a sword."

"Dad wasn't a pirate, Grayson. That's stupid."

"How do you know?" Grayson replies smartly. "I'm older than you. I've known Dad longer than you. I know what he did before you were born."

Stella frowns; her brother's got her there. "Whatever."

Just then Spencer enters the room, a bag full of towels and sunscreen in hand, and asks, "What are two arguing about?"

"How Dad got the hole in his stomach," Grayson fills her in. "It was a pirate's sword, right Mom?"

He shoots her a pleading look, willing her to go along with it, but Stella stomps her foot. "No, it _wasn't_! Mom! Grayson's lying! You said lying's bad, right? Right?"

"It's not lying if I'm just kidding," Grayson shrugs, immediately backpedaling. "It's not!"

Spencer glances between the two of them and then at her husband. "Well? Do you want to tell them the truth?"

"Sure," Toby nods. "The real way I got this scar… No, never mind, you don't want to know."

"Yes we do!" Grayson nods furiously and helps Stella onto the stool beside him, their momentary irritation gone.

"Tell us! Tell us!" She shrieks.

And so they get the truth; Toby and Spencer tell the kids about the time when Daddy was a cop and he used to protect people and catch the bad guys. They just brush upon the time he was shot and definitely don't go into any gory details, but it's enough to satisfy the children for now. When the story is over, Stella scurries over to her father and leaps into his arms. "I'm sorry you got hurt, Daddy!"

"It's okay, sweetheart," He chuckles, lifting her to his hip. "That was a long time ago and I'm all better now. And those bad guys are long gone."

Grayson's still eyeing the scar in wonder. "Did it hurt a lot?"

"Oh yeah." Toby confirms. "A whole lot."

The seven-year-old then asks, "Did you cry?"

"Not so much."

He then directs the question at his mother. "Did _you_ cry?"

"A whole lot," Spencer answers. "But enough about that. Are we going to go make a sandcastle or what?"

"Not just a sandcastle, Mommy," Stella addresses her. "A sand _town!_"

"Yeah, Dad can build the whole town just like he built our house," Grayson confirms, pulling open the back door and stepping onto the sandy porch.

"And he can even protect it, 'cause he's a cop too," Stella adds. "But don't get anymore holes in your belly, Daddy. That's not good."

"I'll try my best," Toby jokes and they sink into the sun-warmed sand.

The happy family of four chooses their spot on the beach, sets up camp, and gets right to work building their sand town. As Toby begins construction on a school for the corner, Spencer begins to make a very tall town hall and Grayson digs a giant moat around the entire town. When asked why, he states simply, "So the bad guys can't get in." And it makes perfect sense.

Stella's in charge of filling the moat with seawater and she runs up and down the beach with her little bucket, splashing some over the side. She gets frustrated that instead of collecting in a shallow pool, most of the water is instead absorbed by the sand and throws in the towel. Grayson, too, loses interest and instead the two run along the shoreline, searching for seashells, running from waves and splashing and giggling without a care in the world. It's this sight, this one right here, that makes every single moment of torment and terror completely worth it. Spencer watches her children, suntanned and carefree, laugh and play, and she knows that in a heartbeat, she would go through everything all over again so long as no one could ever take this away from her.

Toby nudges her shoulder and asks, "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I was just thinking about how happy I am," Spencer tells him honestly. "How absolutely perfect our life is and how much I never want that to change."

"It never will," Toby assures her. "Remember when you thought that whole –A mess would never be over and I told you to have some faith? To keep holding on? It was for this. This moment right here; that's what we were waiting for."

"You always knew," Spencer observes and Toby nods.

"I did," He tells her. "And yeah, we had some supremely awful times; things we'll never forget."

"Battle scars," Spencer puts in and he grins.

"Exactly," Toby says. "But in the long run, it was all kind of worth it, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. "It kind of was."


End file.
